Killing Me Softly (22 page)

She turned around slowly and met his eyes head-on, and her expression was stony. “That's right.
You
still think I might be a serial killer.”

He flinched but stood his ground. “The more time I spend with you, the less likely that seems, Olivia, but I'm not taking any chances here.”

“I get that. However, let's not forget that you're the number-one suspect. I'm not sure how comfortable I am with
you
being armed, either.”

Dawn went up to him. “Olivia, I don't think you're a killer, either. But I know for sure Bryan isn't. We invited you here to keep you safe from Thomas Skinner, and
you're going to have to play by our rules while you're here. Okay?”

Olivia met her eyes, nodded slowly. “Okay. Fine.”

Dawn smiled to ease the worry from Olivia's face, and then she took the gun from Bryan's hand. “I'll keep this one. And Rico and Bryan will both be armed, and that'll have to be enough.” Then she turned and handed the gun to Rico. “Actually, I think I'd prefer a shotgun. It's the only kind I've ever fired.”

“I should put the extra weapons back in the car, then?” Rico asked.

Bryan nodded. “Seems like the best plan to me. Put 'em in the trunk and lock it up. And keep track of your key, okay?”

“Yes, Rico, you'd better make sure I don't pick your pocket when you're not looking. You wouldn't want me to go on a killing spree,” Olivia said, and Dawn thought there was a hint of hurt in her voice. “I think I'm ready to turn in.” She glanced at Rico. “You can share the room if you're not afraid of being murdered in your sleep. There are two beds.” And then she walked out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs.

D
awn hit the shower, then dug through her duffel bag in search of something even mildly sexy to wear to bed. Of course, she found nothing. She hadn't brought any thing because she didn't
own
anything. Then again, she thought, she probably wouldn't have brought anything even if she had the entire Victoria's Secret collection in her closet. Seducing Bryan had been the furthest thing from her mind when she'd gotten on that plane. The possibility of being seduced
by
him might have fluttered through once or twice, but its wings had been weighted by doubt. No, not doubt. Certainty. Certainty that such a thing would never happen. Wasn't possible.

She hadn't been wrong. He was still telling her why they couldn't and why they shouldn't, but she was done listening. She had her own arguments to make tonight, and they were convincing ones.

Though they would be a lot more convincing in a sexy black negligee and a pair of thigh-highs to match.

The best she could do was a white tank-style undershirt and a pair of red panties.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her still-wet hair. Reluctantly, and maybe partly because she was too nervous to face him just yet, she decided to blow it out, and took the hair dryer and round brush from her bag. As she worked, twisting the brush expertly through her hair, drying one section at a time to make it smooth and straight and sexy, she tried out her arguments on her reflection.

“‘It's only sex,'” she whispered. “‘It doesn't have to mean anything.'” She pursed her lips. “That sounds cold and kind of slutty. Besides, I know damn well it'll mean something to me. And I
want
it to mean something to him, too. Okay, ditch that one. How about, ‘If you end up behind bars, we may never have another chance'?” She didn't really believe that one, either, though. She didn't believe for one minute that Bryan would go to prison. He was too good a person, and an innocent man to boot. She couldn't imagine this mess ending that way.

“Maybe I should try, ‘If the killer catches up to us, I could end up dead. And I don't want to die without being with you again.'” She blinked and nodded, because that one tugged at her heart in a way that told her she wasn't making it up. She meant it. And she thought he would know that when he heard her say it. “Just one more time, Bryan,” she whispered, staring at the bathroom door in the mirror now, speaking from her heart directly to him.

Nodding firmly, she finished drying her hair lock by lock, until finally there was no more dampness left. She'd already brushed her teeth. Already smoothed moisturizer into her face and shaved her legs. She'd done everything she could think of to do.

And yet she wasn't ready. Her rehearsed lines were already fading from her mind, and all she could think about was the feeling of his mouth on hers, the sensation of skin against skin. The way it was going to be when his arms finally closed around her body and pulled her close.

The knock on the bathroom door made her jump nearly out of her skin. She swung her head toward the door fast and barked,
“What?”
before she could stop herself.

“Uh, sorry, Dawn. I just…no hurry. Take your time. Save me some hot water, okay?”

She blinked. Great, she'd just bitten off the head of the man she intended to sweet-talk into her arms tonight. “I'm sorry, Bry. You startled me. I'll be right out.”

She looked in the mirror, smoothed her hair, nodded firmly and, turning, yanked the door open.

Bryan was standing there, waiting. And he couldn't hide his reaction. Not even if he tried, and he did try, she thought, after that first surprised moment when his eyes went wide, and he sucked in a breath and took an actual step backward. Almost at the same instant, his gaze slid lower, tracing her body all the way to her toes
and slowly back up again, before lingering on her face, her lips, meeting her eyes.

She couldn't keep her lips from curving into a tremulous smile. “It's all yours,” she said.

He heard the double entendre but pretended not to. “Thanks.”

He choked out the single word, and she was beyond gratified. He wanted her. He liked what he saw. And she thought maybe the tank was getting as good a re action as any little black nightie ever could.

She made herself move, finally, tugging her feet from where they'd practically grown rooted to the floor and walking to the bed.

He turned, following every step until she sat down on the edge of the mattress, facing him again. “I'll be waiting,” she said.

His look of pure appreciation changed then. It became one of pure fear. He turned away fast and darted into the bathroom as if someone were chasing him. The door banged closed.

Dawn lowered her head and blew every bit of air out of her lungs. He wasn't going to give it up easily, she thought.

Then she brought her head up fast as the door opened again. He looked out at her. She met his eyes, and if her own were expectant, she couldn't help it. He was going to say she looked great or something equally sweet.

He met her eyes. “I, um, I need to leave the door open while I clean up. Given that we don't know for
sure if we're sharing space with a killer or not, I need to be able to hear you if you need me.”

She sighed deeply, not trying to hide her disappointment, though she didn't expect him to understand its cause. “Or I could just lock the bedroom door,” she suggested.

“Do that, too.”

Still disappointed, she nodded.

“Don't tell me that little demonstration with the Glock didn't give you reason to rethink your assumptions about Olivia,” he said.

She lifted her head. “Actually, Olivia was the last thing on my mind, Bry.”

“Well, she shouldn't be.”

She rolled her eyes, then turned her back on him to jerk down the covers of the only bed as if she were angry at them. “I wish whoever it was would just make a try for me already. I'm sick of this.”

“I know. Hang in there, Dawn. It'll be okay.”

“How? How's it going to be okay?”

He frowned at her, and she knew he thought she was behaving oddly. She was tense and nervous and almost weepy—probably because of the likelihood he would shoot her down tonight. She couldn't expect him to understand any of it. “Go take your damn shower. I'm locking the door.” She crossed the room, turned the lock. “See?”

He nodded and backed into the bathroom, then pushed the door closed partway, just enough so he could stand on the other side of it, out of sight. She sighed
and tromped back to the bed. Hurled her body onto it, punched the pillow into submission and then rolled onto her back and pulled the covers over her.

From that position she could see the mirror over the bathroom sink, and Bryan reflected in it. He'd turned on the shower and stripped off his shirt, and now he was just standing there behind the door, where he thought he was invisible. His bare chest was more magnificent than she could have imagined it. So defined and firm and broad. And then he undid his jeans and slid them down, and she saw boxer briefs covering up his small, hard tush and muscled hairy thighs.

He'd changed.

God, how he'd changed.

He'd been little more than a boy when the two of them had made love—that one and only time. He was a man now. He was
all
man now.

She rolled onto her side, propped her head on her hand and watched as he pushed the briefs down, catching only a flash of toned hip before he vanished behind the shower curtain.

But in her mind's eye, she was back there. All the way back there in time.

The Blackberry Inn had a grove out back, not quite part of the gargantuan state forest, but attached to it. Farther up the steep mountainsides, there were hardwoods surrounding clearings where the big stags held court. They especially liked the oak trees. But here, that sprawling forest was all conifers, towering pines and various types of spruce.

But not the little grove. It was all manmade. There were fruit trees—peach, apple, cherry—along with several varieties of flowering trees and a pair of weeping willows. In the center, a tiny pond lay dotted with lily pads and bright pink lotus blossoms. The willows dipped their fronds into the water, as if testing its temperature with their fingertips. So graceful.

Bryan and Dawn used to sneak out there in the dead of night, wrap up in each other's arms and kiss until they were both on fire. And that was all they did. Until that one night, when things went further.

That night their passionate makeout session had taken them to a place neither of them had been before. She smiled as she remembered how awkward it had been. How hesitantly he'd touched her breasts for the first time, after staring at them with such wonder and reverence in his eyes that she'd felt like the Mona Lisa. Touching, so careful, so fleeting. Kissing them, then. She'd been so incredibly shy of his lips on her until she felt them, and then tiny explosions just ripped through her body. From then on she was far too busy feeling to be shy anymore.

The clothes had come off slowly, while they kissed without pause and she realized how good this was going to be. It was only seconds later that, still kissing, he settled his body over hers, nudging his way inside her, a little bit, then waiting, then a little bit more, and then waiting, and then…

And then, when she started to squirm for something more and moved against him, encouraging him to do
the same, he did. He thrust into her five or six times before he withdrew again, shuddering on top of her as hot semen shot onto her thighs in several bursts.

She remembered feeling…so turned on. So aroused. And so frustrated.

She thought he'd felt…wonderful, drained and happy. Though maybe he'd been worried, too, because he kept asking her if she was okay, if she'd enjoyed it, if he'd hurt her, and a dozen other things, until she'd cupped his head, and drawn his mouth to hers once more.

And whispered the words that came so easily to a teenage girl.

“I love you. I love you, Bryan Kendall. And I'll never, ever love anyone else. Not ever.”

His smile had been quick and beautiful. “I love you, too.”

The shower stopped running, and Dawn's aware ness jolted from the past to the present in the space of a heartbeat. He was finished with his shower. He would be walking out of that bathroom any second now.

She bent one knee, letting it protrude from beneath the blankets, and tugged her hair so it hung over one shoulder.

Then she moved the blanket a little higher, baring her leg all the way to the thigh, wondering if the pose looked as sexy as she thought it did.

God, no, it was way too obvious!

She rolled onto her back instead, arms at her sides. But that made her look like a corpse waiting to be au
topsied. So she rolled onto her other side and wondered if her butt looked huge from that angle.

Quickly she sat up, frustrated and wondering why a girl never had a porn director around when she needed one.

“You all right?”

She jerked her head up, and there was Bryan. She'd totally missed her cue. He was wearing clean boxer briefs and a T-shirt. A T-shirt, dammit. She really didn't want him in a T-shirt.

She sat up and braced her palms on the bed behind her, then tipped her head back a little. She bent her knee up and the covers slid off it, baring her thigh, and she imagined she looked just like the sexy female silhouette that adorned air fresheners in men's pickup trucks nationwide.

“Fine,” she said. “Why do you ask?” And why, she wondered, do I suddenly feel just as awkward as I did five years ago?

“You were…tossing and turning…or something.”

“Couldn't get comfy.” He was trying too hard not to look at her, she thought. All right, enough with the porno pose. She gave up and fell back onto her pillows, then jerked the covers back up and patted the spot beside her.

He looked at the mattress as if it were a river hiding a killer croc just beneath the surface.

“Dawn, you know we talked ab—”

“I totally know what we talked about.” She frowned at him. “What, don't you trust me? You think I'm
going to—I don't know—force myself on you or something?”

He stood there, just looking at her for a long moment, and then he smiled and shook his head. “You couldn't if you wanted to.”

And what the
hell
was
that
supposed to mean?

“Get in, then.”

He got in. He lay on his back, head on the pillow, hands folded in an area roughly over his groin, almost as if they were protecting it.

She was insulted and almost told him so. Instead, she rolled over onto her other side, putting her back to him, and she
smoldered.

Did he really think he was
all that?
That he had to sleep with his dick covered up to protect it from her inevitable attack?

Well, he'd better just damn well think again.

Jerk!

 

Hours later, she realized that in spite of her anger and frustration, she had managed to fall asleep. She opened her eyes to find her head resting on Bryan's chest and his arms wrapped around her. Without moving, she squinted at the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock—2:20 a.m.

He was sound asleep, no doubt. She felt his chest rising and falling, his heart thumping steadily beneath her head. And as miserable as she was, she lay there and let her body melt into him. Her top leg was bent, resting over his no-longer-protected groin. And she sighed
in spite of herself as her leg moved higher, then lower again, all without her permission, rubbing over him.

And then she blinked, because he was hard beneath her thigh.

Maybe he wasn't asleep, after all.

Oh, hell, what should she do?

She lay still, holding her breath, wondering if she should pretend to be asleep or…

His hand moved, the one near the back of her head, his fingers threading very lightly into her hair.